SIBLING APPRECIATION DAY
by Vanessa Sgroi
Summary: Wee!chester fic. Dean's 10, Sam's 6. The wheels in little Sammy's head are always turning. Not long on plot but plenty of brotherly schmoop.


Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with the boys, playing around with Eric Kripke's sandbox.

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**SIBLING APPRECIATION DAY**

**By: Vanessa Sgroi**

Six-year-old Sam Winchester, the tip of his tongue locked firmly between his lips, concentrated on the markings the pencil was making on the paper in front of him. Finishing the last stroke of the letter, he laid the pencil down and peeked at his older brother through his fringy, wildly overgrown bangs. After a moment or so lost in thought, he spoke.

"Dean?"

Glancing up from his well-worn comic, Dean responded. "Yeah, Sammy?"

"Why isn't there a Little Brother's Day?"

"What?"

"You know, like how before Daddy left again a few days ago, we gave him those presents 'nd stuff we made in school—for Father's Day? Why isn't there a Little Brother's Day?"

Dean shook his head. "Every day is Little Brother's Day, squirt."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

"But I don't get presents like Daddy."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You get presents every day."

"Nuh uh. I do not."

The older Winchester boy smirked. "Sure you do. Cereal, milk, SpaghettiOs, mac and cheese…"

Sam scrunched his nose. "That's not presents. That's food!"

Dean's grin faded a bit as the truth of their situation pricked him. _If Sammy really knew…_ His gaze dropped back to the colorful action scenes depicted in panels in front of him. He shrugged. "Close enough."

The littlest Winchester sighed forlornly and dropped his chin into his hand, his elbow smudging the graphite on the paper. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we make tomorrow Little Brother's Day?"

"What?"

"Can tomorrow be Little Brother's Day?"

"Sammy…"

"Please!" pleaded Sam, his hazel eyes widening and going all shiny. "Please, Dean? I don' hafta get a present. But may…maybe we can go to the park?"

Never able to resist that particular expression, Dean relented. "All right, fine. I guess I can take you up to the park."

"And maybe we can get ice cream cones?"

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, kiddo. We don't have money for ice cream."

Sam's bottom lip wibbled ever so slightly.

"But maybe we can get one and share it."

Sam's face glowed neon.

_**(SPN) (SPN) (SPN)**_

Sam skipped ahead, brown paper bag clenched in his fist. Turning, he urged his big brother to hurry. "C'mon, Dean! Hurry UP!" Reaching the entrance to the tiny park, Sam dutifully waited until Dean was at his side before bolting for the swings.

Both boys raced around, whooped and hollered, thoroughly enjoying the warm summer Saturday, stopping only long enough to share a rather smooshed peanut butter sandwich and a wizened apple that certainly had seen better days.

On the way back to the motel, as promised Dean stopped at the little ice cream stand and purchased a small vanilla cone. Walking away, he turned to hand the sweet treat to Sammy for the first lick when a brawny kid, taller than Dean by half, "stumbled" into him. The ice cream cone tumbled to the ground.

Laughing, the blond-haired bully gave another—harder—shove.

Before Dean could gather himself to retaliate, Sammy tore from behind him and laid into the bully. "Leave my brother alone!" A small sneakered foot connected with several sensitive areas on the bully's body. The bigger boy folded inward and sank to the ground. Leaving the bigger kid to grunt, sputter, and howl, the Winchester brothers made a mad dash for the motel.

Racing inside, Dean slammed and locked the door behind them. Gasping, he scowled, muttering, "Sammy, what'd you go and do that for?"

"He was bein' mean to you."

"Yeah, well, lemme take care of it all next time, okay?"

"Why?"

"'Cause that's my job."

"Huh?"

"That's my job as big brother."

"Oh."

"Sorry about the ice cream cone, kiddo."

"'s okay, Dee. We can get some tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, for Big Brother's Day!"

"Sammy, I told you, we don't have the money."

"I do."

"_You_ do? How?"

With a shy smile, Sam held out a hand, slowly uncurling his fingers and revealing a treasure—an aged, crumpled five dollar bill. "That big meanie dropped this when he ran in to you."

_**FIN**_


End file.
